


How The Times Change

by tatou



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Hatesex, M/M, and then love happens, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-11
Updated: 2013-03-11
Packaged: 2017-12-05 01:05:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/717101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tatou/pseuds/tatou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It takes them seven times to figure it out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How The Times Change

Their first touches are electric. 

They’re fueled by anger and resentment towards each other; Jack lets his nails dig into Bunnymund’s fur, seeking out the tender skin beneath. Bunnymund’s grip on his hips is iron-tight, the barest hint of claws pressing into his flesh. He bites cruelly into whatever he can reach of Jack’s skin: the back of his neck, his shoulders, his wrists and hip. The new guardian’s body is soon peppered with bright red welts, markings of anger and reluctant but fierce possession.

  
Bunnymund enters him without warning, hissing as he goes. Though he’s applied lube, it hurts like hell and Jack bites down on his lip to keep from crying out. He’s bigger than Jack had anticipated, and the way he feels it stretching him open further is foreign, filling his cold belly with strange warmth. 

It goes to pieces from there; they grunt and moan as they move, too lost in the rutting to put any sentiment in it. It’s just fucking- carnal sounds and actions, angry, pained gasps and moans. When Bunnymund comes, he sinks his teeth down  _hard_  into Jack’s neck, savoring the loud grunt of pain that escapes the frost spirit’s lips. 

They don’t cuddle or lie together after. Bunnymund snarls and pushes away from Jack in disgust, chest heaving as he comes down from the orgasm-induced euphoria. He can see the tension still riddled through out Bunnymund’s shoulders, the loathing in his eyes when he looks down at Jack.

“Don’t go tellin’ anyone about this.” He says.

Jack snorts derisively. “Please. Who am I gonna tell?” He stretches a little, trying to ease the pain from his hips and upper torso. The bites all along his body sting fiercely as he moves. Wincing, he presses a cold hand to one of the marks, letting the cold soothe the pain away. “If anything, it’s these bites that are gonna tell us out.”

That makes Bunnymund’s eyes flash, and Jack remembers too late that Bunnymund had muttered something earlier about ‘mating season’ before he’s tackled again. The elder guardian presses him hard into the ground, breathing fast. There’s still come smeared messily on his belly and inside him, but that doesn’t stop the Easter spirit. He works himself up, reaching around to palm Jack and pump him almost furiously. It isn’t soon before he feels those furred hips grinding against him, that cock heavy and waiting to take him again. 

“No more biting this time.” He says, his voice a weak plea.

“Shut up.” Bunnymund mutters.

The fourth time, they’re in the Warren. 

 

They’re lying out in the grass, a mess of barely-restrained sounds and tangled limbs. Bunnymund lies on his back this time, paws gripping slender, chilly hips as Jack rides him. The two of them are silent, letting out the barest hints of sound as they move together. They’ve had a pretty uneventful day, and though they should probably be somewhere else pretending to do something, they’ve been inexplicably together all week. 

There’s something about Bunnymund that has a calming effect on Jack. He doesn’t know what it is; maybe it’s the sweet patience in his eyes or the occasional gentleness in his paws when they fuck. He wishes he knew what it was, but when Bunnymund pushes in again and hits that sweet spot all thoughts fall out of Jack’s mind.

Bunnymund himself looks almost distant; he looks like he’s thinking of other things, things that aren’t Jack. Annoyed, Jack twists his hips and quickens his pace, riding the Pooka hard and fast. He wants Bunnymund to pay attention to  _him_. The elder guardian lets out a strangled gasp and squeezes Jack’s hips so hard he jerks a little in pain, and the motion makes them moan in unison. 

When they’re done, Bunnymund gets up immediately, storming off to sit somewhere alone and sulk. 

Jack knows better than to stay.

The sixth time is memorable because it’s up against a wall in an alley somewhere and it’s dark and cold out. The ground beneath their feet is hard and crumbling with age; the alley smells vaguely odd, but that doesn’t seem to deter them. 

Bunnymund presses Jack hard against the wall, and their kisses are full to the brim with urgency. Jack doesn’t know what’s gotten into the Easter spirit-one minute they were tossing lighthearted jabs back and forth and the next Bunny’s hand is on his hip, the other tilting his chin upwards for a kiss.

As that wet nose travels down his neck, he feels sharp, familiar teeth sinking into his skin and sighs at the sensation, nuzzles into the hand that cups his cheek. There’s a new tenderness in those furry hands he’s never experienced before, and he can’t get enough of it. The sudden softness makes him feel warm and utterly protected; he buries his face into Bunnymund’s fur, gasping into the downy surface when Bunnymund murmurs something into his neck, tongue flicking out to taste the cold skin.

“Open up for me, love.” Bunny says, and it’s new because they’ve never really spoken during sex, and they’ve never used pet names either. 

But he obeys anyway, shuddering a little when a slicked finger presses into him.

When he finally does push in, Jack’s surprised at the sigh of relief that escapes him. He feels utterly whole, and the thought would seem strange if the furry arms around him didn’t feel so perfect against his cold skin. 

After, they look at each other quietly, and laugh for reasons unknown to them both.

Their seventh time (and Christ, Jack can’t believe they’ve gotten this far at all) is in Bunnymund’s burrow. 

It’s a short way under the Warren; warm and earthy, tunneled out neatly and fully furnished. It smells musky and sweet; several tiny charms hang from the ceiling, clinking quietly as they move. It’s not what Jack expected to be, to put it simply. 

On the bed, Jack whines, his arms reaching up around Bunnymund’s neck to press the two of them closer together. 

They find themselves moving together in tandem, and though neither of them voices their wonder at it, it’s expressed through their actions. Jack’s hands, though they already know their paths around Bunnymund’s body, feel as though they’re touching that silky fur for the first time. He lets the tufts of fur sift between his fingers, grabs handfuls of it when Bunnymund slides into him gently. His gasp isn’t any louder than a sigh, and the breath tickles at Bunnymund’s ears, making them twitch in response. 

Bunnymund presses his nose into Jack’s skin and closes his eyes to take in the scent. He sucks lightly at the cool skin offered up to him, scraping lightly with his teeth. The frost that webs up beneath his lips melts under his hot breath. Taking in a quiet breath, he presses himself into Jack. They’re both distantly surprised at the care with which he does it, and they let out a collective sigh of pleasure. He closes his eyes and buries his nose into Jack’s neck as he moves, working up a slow pace that has them both arching arduously against each other. 

They fill the burrow with sweet and quiet noise, and the scent that hangs about them after isn’t like what they’ve smelled before. It smells thick and almost cloyingly sweet, like their sweat and the smell of Bunnymund’s fur. 

 

When they’re done, Bunny surprises Jack with his tongue. For several long, silent minutes he works at it, cleaning the winter spirit off as best he can. He drags his tongue sweetly over long, pale thighs that tremble wantingly, watching the flaccid cock between them grow ruddy and stir with interest all over again. 

He doesn’t move away this time when Jack reaches for him, not like he did in the beginning. He only sits still, feels Jack curl into his arms and tremble as he palms both their cocks and strokes them to relief.  
They don’t sleep immediately after. Though they’re both tired, they lie awake and watch each other with half-lidded eyes. Bunny’s eyes, usually so piercingly green, are soft and clouded with something Jack can’t name.

“We should do this again.” Bunnymund says suddenly, his voice low. Jack doesn’t stir at the sound. He lets himself be held, strokes at the downy fur on the elder guardian’s shoulders. Curling into Bunny’s chest, he buries his lips into the thick fur, brushing them across every inch he can reach, dropping kisses like snowflakes.

This new affection is something he could definitely get used to, he thinks. He wants more of it. It’s almost startling how rapidly they’ve progressed to this, but it’s most definitely not an unwelcome change.

“What, fuck?” He asks. “Newsflash, Bunny, we’ve  _been_ -“

“Nah, not that.” Bunnymund interrupts. “I meant makin’ love, y’little bludger.”

Pausing, Jack looks up at the Pooka, intrigued at his choice of words. “What about it?”

He’s unprepared for the warm, heady rush of giddy love he feels flood into his heart at Bunnymund’s answering smile. “’s nice. We should do this again, but proper, you know?”

Jack can’t help the incredulous laugh that spills from his lips. He hugs Bunnymund tight, closing his eyes as the guardian of hope laughs in return. “Are you asking me out, Bunny?” 

A cold nose rubs just under his jaw, and the kiss that follows makes his eyelids flutter. “You bet your skinny arse I am, Frost.” Bunnymund replies, and Jack still hasn’t stopped smiling. 

 


End file.
